


Red String

by Bellflower



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellflower/pseuds/Bellflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not once before had he looked upon on a face like that… and yet it was as familiar to him as the faces of his own family, those he had known since he was <i>born</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red String

**Author's Note:**

  * For [distantsonority](https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantsonority/gifts).



> Dedicated to Von, who wanted reincarnation fluff! Hope you enjoy, dear.

He knew this man. 

Motochika thought that the first time he encountered the quiet young author with the fall of long, black hair. He still thought it now, two years into their friendship. The kind eyes, the fan of dark eyelashes, the shape of his mouth, the unquestionably attractive blush he got whenever he was embarrassed (and considering how easily embarrassed Mitsuhide was, Motochika got to see it a lot).

All that, and more, formed a picture of gentle beauty unlike any other he had seen before. Not once before had he looked upon on a face like that… and yet it was as familiar to him as the faces of his own family, those he had known since he was _born_. More, it had brought to life overwhelmingly powerful feelings in his chest the first day they had met. The need to watch over and protect Mitsuhide, the desire to be close to him, the urge to give him everything... together those feelings meant only one thing, and Motochika was not one to believe in love at first sight. He was far from idealistic, after all.

It could only be fate, could only be a reunion.

Motochika raised his cup to his mouth and watched Mitsuhide move around the room. The other man was restless, no doubt worried about one of the books he had recently submitted for publication, and whenever he felt like that he usually ended up pouring all of his energy into meaningless tasks in order to distract himself. Motochika took a sip of his drink, sat it down on the table, and then spoke.

“Calm down, Mitsuhide,” he said, voice warm and a touch amused. “Worrying like this will do you no good.”

Mitsuhide paused, and turned to look at Motochika.

“I… I am not worrying,” Mitsuhide replied, tilting his head a fraction. “Don’t worry. The room needs tidying, that’s all.”

Motochika shook his head a fraction, smiling, and stood up. He walked over to Mitsuhide and rested his hands on the other’s shoulders. 

“You forget who you are talking to.” Motochika looked down at Mitsuhide and felt a slight thrill when Mitsuhide flushed a light red. “The room needs no further tidying, and you are indeed worrying. You should relax. Let me help you, if you find doing so hard.”

There was a moment of quiet before Mitsuhide nodded slowly, something like warmth appearing in his dark eyes. Motochika smirked, and shifted his hands from the other man’s shoulders to cup his cheeks instead.

Two years they had known each other; for only two months of that had they been something more as well.

Without hesitating, Motochika leant in to kiss Mitsuhide. It was a slow, soft kiss at first, undemanding and warm. This they had done often since the first day of their romance, and even back then Motochika had found his lover’s mouth to be just right. He had known just how to kiss Mitsuhide how he liked it best, and Mitsuhide had likewise found it easy to make Motochika sigh with just a single stroke of the tongue across his lips.

The kiss deepened. 

Yes, this truly was a reunion. There was no other explanation for the way they had seemed to know each other so well from day one, for the way their kisses had been perfect from the start. Motochika hummed softly into Mitsuhide’s mouth, feeling a keen urge to test his theory further. He dropped his hands from Mitsuhide’s cheeks and ran them down his lover’s sides, feeling the shape of the body beneath the fabric of Mitsuhide’s shirt. When his right hand was low enough he slipped just the tips of his fingers underneath, stroking the skin there. His lover pulled away from their kiss and gasped slightly, eyes growing half-lidded.

That was promising.

Motochika was surprised, however, when he felt Mitsuhide’s hands press against his torso and push him back. It was not a hard push, but had enough force behind it to make Mitsuhide’s intentions clear enough. Motochika gladly took the hint, stepping backwards until the back of his legs hit the sofa, and then sat down. He laughed softly as Mitsuhide sat down comfortably on Motochika’s lap; a show of assertiveness, something he very much appreciated. Mitsuhide was often a touch awkward when it came to romantic matters, so such an open display of desire was something to treasure.

Yet… even this gave him a sense of déjà vu.

“I like you there,” he remarked, stroking his hands up and down Mitsuhide’s back.

“Of course you do,” replied Mitsuhide, with a slightly shy smile. “It’s usually _you_ who positions us like this.”

“I do not deny it.”

First leaning in for another kiss, Motochika then shifted his hands to rest on Mitsuhide’s chest instead. His fingers found the top button on the other man’s shirt; Mitsuhide leant in and sighed softly into the kiss, which Motochika took as encouragement. Pleased, he swiftly undid every button and cast the shirt to the floor. That barrier gone, his hands roamed eagerly. How long had he wished to do this? The feeling of Mitsuhide’s skin and muscle beneath his touch, both new and oh-so familiar, was warm, wonderful, and unquestionably arousing. The younger man seemed to enjoy being touched in such a way too, judging by the little sounds he was making.

“Motochika…”

Mitsuhide’s voice was breathy, full of need. He shifted against Motochika’s hands, restless; there was no question that he was ready for more. 

“Mmm…” Motochika himself sounded almost impossibly husky. “I think I would like to see you somewhere else, now.”

“Where?” asked Mitsuhide softly, his own hands settling on Motochika’s shoulder and his head tipping backwards a little. Motochika took the motion as a hint, and leaned in to kiss that lovely pale neck before making a reply.

“I’m open to suggestions,” he said, smirking against his lover’s skin. “Where would _you_ suggest, Mitsuhide?”

While he waited for a response, Motochika began to suck a mark onto Mitsuhide’s skin. He did enjoy challenging his lover, encouraging him to step outside of his boundaries a little. The beautiful man was capable of doing so much more than you would think. Behind that gentle, shy exterior was a quiet strength, and even something of a streak of rebellion. Every now and then he would do something that few would ever expect he was capable of, show off the fire Motochika had known he possessed since the start, and it gave his lover a thrill every time he did so. 

Who wouldn’t find such a man attractive? But Mitsuhide was his, and surely had always _been_ his. Motochika felt the pull of the red string between them, a joining that nothing could sever. Not steel, not death, not time itself. 

…not that he’d tell Mitsuhide as such, of course. Not yet. Romantic talk always flustered the other, and that was a step beyond such things; Motochika didn’t see why, but he respected that facet of Mitsuhide’s personality. He could wait.

A quiet moan brought his attention back to the present. Motochika pulled back just enough to survey the mark he’d left, with considerable pleasure.

“Motochika, I want… on my knees. I want to pleasure you,” Mitsuhide whispered, after a moment. He sounded beyond embarrassed, like he’d never made such a suggestion to another before; Motochika wouldn’t be surprised if that was true, but he didn’t care. Because this was most definitely one of those moments when Mitsuhide was willing to do something you wouldn’t expect. In one swift movement he wrapped his arms fully around his lover’s waist and stood up, unbelievably pleased and more than eager to move them both to his bedroom. Mitsuhide gasped quietly, holding on tightly with both hands; his face was now almost fully red, but he still managed to meet Motochika’s heated gaze.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” said Motochika, smirk wide and expression full of blatant delight. “I have fantasised many times before about what your mouth might feel like around me, Mitsuhide. I did not expect you would give me the chance to live those fantasies out so soon.”

“You are ridiculous, Motochika,” replied Mitsuhide, shaking his head but smiling all the while as Motochika began to walk to the bedroom.

That night Motochika found that his theory was definitely correct; he knew this man, his soulmate, and the knowledge he had of him from that time long ago was just as useful in the present as it had been in the past. For a short time, the world contained only them.


End file.
